


A Spare Set of Wings

by Susanwiththescythe



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Adoptive Parents - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Female Ejaculation, First Time, Flying Sex, Interspecies Sex, Mentions mutilation, Mentions past trauma, Mistress/servent relationship, POV Diaval, Unequal relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8619391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susanwiththescythe/pseuds/Susanwiththescythe
Summary: Diaval has acted as Maleficent's wings for Aurora's lifetime. When his Mistress finally gets hers back, he doubts she will still need him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during the aftermath of Maleficent's defeat of Stefan and before the end sequence of the movie. I wrote it ages ago, immediately after seeing the film, which I simultaneously loved and hated. But it inspired me to write my first fanfic in years, so they must have been doing something right/wrong. Un-beta'd, so all errors are mine. Comments and concrit always welcomed.

"I need you to be my wings," she had said, all those years ago. And for more than 16 years he had been. Wings, paws, hooves, whatever she had demanded, whatever whim had taken her fancy. She never asked. And he almost never complained. That was how his love worked. He'd liked being the dog least and she knew it. Oh she'd said he was a wolf, but she was just trying to make him feel better. He hadn't resented it for long, he owed her everything. But there was still some pride there. He was a raven at heart, and being a dog was such an obvious reminder of how totally she owned him. It was unnecessary. After so many years, he hoped she knew that, but in all that time she had given him no sign. Still, he would always be loyal. Where she went, he would follow.

Which was how he found himself flapping and scratching in desperation at the iron-clad minions who tormented his mistress. The visors of their helmets left only slits and his talons and beak could not reach their eyes. Diaval wished the hardest he ever had that he was a man. It was not his natural shape, but he'd learnt enough over the years that he was sure he stood a better chance of fighting them off in that body. Now he was just one raven against a score of men. Cowards, he raged, who could only find the courage to take her on when she was ensnared, the way he had been when they first met.

Through the panic, he remembered that day, when he'd been suddenly created, naked, in front of her. Underneath his cockiness, he'd secretly worshipped her from the start. He hadn't been embarrassed at that first meeting, he hadn't known what _naked_ was. After the initial shock of finding himself with arms instead of wings, he'd just been grateful to be alive and free. Free to serve her. A choice that had felt the most natural thing in the world. As he'd come to appreciate her power, and realise his own ordinariness in comparison, he'd asked for clothes. She had given him rough spun wool. It itched a little, but he was warm.

He could see Maleficent thrashing under the iron net as they jabbed at her with spears, flesh red and blistering where the metal burned her. Diaval felt an answering fire rise in his throat and recognised the touch of her power as it surged through his body, changing him. This was when he felt closest to her, when her very essence was right inside him. She was never cruel the rest of the time, merely aloof, so he felt an intimate exhilaration with each transformation, his heart pounding, every inch of skin trembling. Whatever he turned into, the alteration was an ecstasy, a second or two that stretched into a lifetime, his nerves thrilling with the possibility of becoming. As the power built inexorably, he knew this time it would be something big. It was more magic than she'd ever channelled through him before, he felt his entire body growing at tremendous speed. In that instant he vowed she could turn him into a dog every day if she made it feel as good as this.

The fire roared up his throat and out of his mouth, his wings unfurled, hundreds of times their usual size, and a fierce joy shot through him as he knew he could finally help his mistress. He seized the hateful net in his jagged new talons, whirled it away... and she was free. Nearly 17 years and he had come close to repaying his debt. But she was not safe yet.

As they had reached the castle, he had predicted death for both of them. She had said it wasn't his fight, tried to send him away. He wished he knew whether she was trying to save him, didn't really care or had known his love meant he would follow anyway. But he had made his choice and if he couldn't be of use now, it would have been a worthless one. Most of the room was on fire but the soldiers weren't giving up. And he could see her efforts in transforming him and the effect of the iron had weakened Maleficent. Feeling chains whip round his muzzle, Diaval bellowed in rage and frustration as he saw a group of them encircle her. They set up a pounding with their heavy iron shields, more chains bit into his flesh. He fought to break free, but although not a fairy himself, he was a fairy's creation and the iron sapped his strength, though it did not burn.

He could only watch, snarling impotently, as that wretch Stefan, hiding behind inches-thick iron plate, tried to bring Maleficent down with whirling chains. She stumbled on the steps leading up to the thrones and as the king advanced, Diaval thought his heart would break.

He felt the ripple in the air before he saw what caused it. A sudden light, brighter than the fires which burned around the room, seared across his eyeballs. And then his mistress was standing, wings spread, a dark, defiant angel. Finally whole. As she rose into the air, he felt a laugh begin deep in his chest. He had thought he had known what it was to fly. Seeing her soar round the chamber dodging arrows, swatting them aside like vexatious wasps, he knew he was a talented amateur at best. She would not need him anymore.

At Stefan's command, most of the soldiers were focusing on Maleficent. Diaval wrenched his head around and sent tongues of fire flickering towards her attackers. Men screamed and burned, roasting in their armour, but he saw the king was still standing. A moment later, one of Stefan's chains snapped tight around Maleficent's ankle. The king was trying to hold her in place, but with a tremendous effort she kept going, heading for the window at the far end of the throne room. Diaval willed her onward, inwardly rejoicing as she barrelled through the glass in a glorious corkscrewing dive, dragging that stupid king with her.

The fight went out of the remaining troops with Stefan gone. The throne room was well and truly alight and a couple of enterprising knights were already escorting Aurora to safety. Two others were still holding some of the chains wrapped round him. He shook loose what he could, then started to run towards the now empty window frame. Those hanging on had the sense to let go before he jumped.

Diaval found his mistress in the castle courtyard, wings erect, standing over the body of her once-beloved. He alighted a little way behind her, keeping a respectful distance. He knew it had been more than Aurora's lifetime since Maleficent had felt any affection for the flattened corpse that had been the king, but his death marked something. Years of pain and rage had ended. She had saved Aurora. She had found she could love again.

Maleficent turned her head towards him, he stretched his neck towards her in response. His mistress climbed on board and patted his scales gently.

"Aurora will not want to see me for now. Take us home."

It wasn't a request.

 

He landed by the lake in the heart of the moorlands. Maleficent clambered stiffly off his back and with a flick of her hand, he was human again. After the intense pleasure of the change, and the enormity of being a dragon, his body was suddenly small and cramped. Without a word, Maleficent climbed her old tree and fell asleep. Diaval took up a guard position, as he had for so many nights with her, close to the trunk, his stillness never betraying the turmoil in his head.

She hadn't told him to leave, but it stood to reason that she would. He had flown her home because she was exhausted, but she had her wings back. She would no longer need him. He tried to fathom what possible use he could be to her now. He had freed her from the net when it most mattered, but he couldn't have done it without her turning him into a dragon, so in way, she had saved herself, using him. His part had been small. Aurora had come into her inheritance, Maleficent had her wings again, what use was he to either of them? His mistress had never said it, but he could tell from the satisfied smirks, and the raise of an eyebrow when he did complain about a particular shape, that she liked physically manipulating his body. She saw it as perfectly reasonable, given their arrangement, but he suspected that was it. He craved the precious seconds of bliss it brought him, but it meant all the more because he was serving her, helping her. That was gone now. If she kept him around it would be for amusement. Diaval knew he couldn't spend the rest of his life as nothing more than a plaything, but equally, he didn't think he could bear her sending him away. He had to leave now, while it was his decision to make. He stood up.

"The last time I woke up alone, Stefan had cut off my wings."

Maleficent was behind him. She had floated down softly, landing silently on her bare feet. He said nothing. He did not like being compared to Stefan.

"You have been my wings for a long time. Yet here you are, in the shape of a man no less, and leaving. Have you finally had enough?"

Her lack of emotion chilled him. When he managed to make himself look at her directly, not a muscle was moving on her face.

"You..." For once, he struggled for words. "You have your own wings now and..." admiration and awe crept into his voice, "they will serve you better than I ever have. You don't need me anymore."

"So you thought you would abandon me too."

Diaval twitched. She was angry with him. "I never meant-"

"Tell me, do you prefer being a man or a raven?"

The question took him by surprise, he was so often one or the other that he never really thought to compare the two, they were just the ways he was.

"I don't know," he said eventually "There are good bits of both."

She took a step towards him, eyebrow raised like a dagger "But the best bit is when I change you isn't it? You adore it."

How could she know? The question, and a little of his horror, must have shown on this face, because she laughed, a chuckle that set the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

She took another step towards him. "Diaval, I have been inside you more times than I can count, did you really think I did not know?"

She would never have said, that wasn't her way. But now he knew she knew, there was no shame in asking. "And how does it feel? Changing me? Do you feel it as I do?"

She shook her head. "It is like working any spell. The effort varies depending on the desired outcome, that's all." He lowered his head, chastened. "But watching what it does to you is another matter entirely." One step more and she was right in front of him, an elegant finger raising his chin off his chest, locking their gazes together. "After years of loyal service, why would you deny me now?"

He couldn't be her plaything, there was no dignity in it. Ravens had helped the wise and powerful since the times of the old gods. He was her servant, not her toy. If that was all he was, she might discard him at any time and after their years together, that uncertainty terrified him. But now his love, his mistress was trailing one finger down his chest, scoring a neat line through his shirt, just pricking the skin, his legs were shaking. Thinking was becoming difficult, speech would have been impossible.

"I could change you any way you wanted, find out what gave you the most pleasure." She laughed again and the sound sent flickers of helpless desire darting up his spine. "I could turn you into anything, perhaps a woman? That would take a lot of power. Almost as much as the dragon."

A moan escaped him. He felt the stirrings of arousal between his legs.

"How does it feel, Diaval? Knowing I could re-arrange you into anything?"

"Terrifying," he managed "and wonderful."

"And you've felt like this almost every day for nearly 17 years?"

"Yes." he whispered.

"What kept you here then?" She grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him towards her, voice contemptuous, "Was it fear? Or just the pleasure?"

Tears pricked his eyes at her sudden harshness. "Truly, I owed you my life." he managed. "And you needed my help and..." It had become much more than that through all those years, but fearing her rejection, her anger, he couldn't speak the words. "You needed my help," he repeated, "But now..."

"I do not. It's true." She was suddenly quiet, thoughtful. She let him go. "But you were right." She paused. "Before we entered the castle. I could not have done it without you there. I needed you today, more than ever." He could see what it cost her to speak the words, she who, in the natural order of things would never truly need anyone. "You saved my life Diaval. You owe me nothing, and I have my wings. But I have grown.... fond of you. You have been a good servant, but you are not my slave. If you really wish to leave, I will not make you stay."

He fell to his knees. "But I love you," he whispered, finally able to get it out. He felt her fingers twining through his hair, pulling his head back to look up at her face, not daring to hope he would see equal affection there.

"And you mean a good deal to me. But that is not the same. You must understand that?

"I do."

"I do not feel as you do. It has been years since I... I cannot promise you anything."

"I know."

"And that is enough for you?"

He nodded. He had waited nearly 20 years to tell her. He would gladly wait twice that for her to respond.

"Very well." She knelt down with him, taking his hands in hers. "You saved my life today. So it is my turn to ask. What do you need?"

"Kiss me."

"I've felt your desire many times," she reminded him with a wicked grin, "Are you sure that is all?"

He cocked his head at her, some of his usual insouciance returning "It's a start."

Their lips met. And it soon became quite clear that this was not enough for either of them. With a single gesture from Maleficent, Diaval found he was naked and flat on his back. One eyebrow was already half way up her forehead.

"Do I need to make you hard as well or do think you can manage that?"

Before he could answer, she had stepped out of her robe and was towering over him, her long hair moving gently in the night breezes, moonlight glinting on her horns. A goddess he now worshipped anew. Sprawled on his back was no way to show devotion Diaval realised, even if she had put him there. Sitting up, he moistened his lips and pressed them against the softness between her legs. She shivered. Scrambling into a crouch, he began to stroke her with his tongue, hesitantly at first, but her moans were all the encouragement he needed. Her weight shifted slightly over him as she braced herself against her tree. Diaval slowly ran his tongue over her delicate folds, fingers tweaking and stroking the inside of her legs, moving from her ankles to her thighs. She moaned deep in her throat, the sound lifting all the hairs on his skin. On impulse, he grasped the curves of her bottom in both hands, tongue flickering over her cunt before he sucked hard on her clitoris. Maleficent's legs were shaking. His face was wet with her excitement, he could taste her, smell her.

"Use your fingers." Wet as she was, first one, then another slid slickly inside her and he began slowly rocking her backwards and forwards with knuckles and fingertips. "What... are you doing?"

"Should I stop?

"No!"

This power over her was something new, Diaval was not sure he liked it, but she had commanded him to continue and he did. He experimented, twisting his fingers inside her, then spreading them apart, withdrawing with infinitesimal slowness before flicking out at the last second. Maleficent jerked, hissing. "Again." He complied. "Again. Don't stop." Diaval slid his fingers into her a third time, felt her quivering inside as he did, repeated spasms that came faster and harder, closer and closer together. She clenched around his fingers as he pulled them out, keening in pleasure. Again and again, he plunged into her, felt the weight of her sink down onto his arm as her knees almost, but not quite, buckled. His fingers were drenched. She couldn't speak, but her breathless gasps told him everything he needed to know. He had never seen her so incoherent, so lacking in control. Now _he_ knew what it was to make someone writhe, knew why she loved doing what she did to him, the pleasure in giving so much to someone else and seeing how utterly they trusted you to unmake them. He would never betray that trust. He would not let her down. Bracing her legs with his arms, Diaval tilted his head back and thrust his tongue inside her cunt as she gushed over his face.

They huddled on the ground together, his arms around her, her wings around both of them. Maleficent was still trembling. Every few minutes, the smallest touch might set her off, even his breath in her ear would lead to a surge through her body that rocked them both. When she finally spoke her voice was almost normal.

"Now, what should I do to you?"

He answered as he had done all those years ago. "Anything. Whatever you need. I am yours." Her smile was full of terrifying promise, he felt himself harden just looking at her. Long fingers grasped him once more.

"Stand up." she commanded.

He obeyed. Once he was on his feet, Maleficent stepped back, letting him go. A small moan of frustration escaped his lips, he was painfully hard by this point. He had never had sex as a man, but it was terribly obvious even to him what should happen next.

Maleficent laughed. "All in good time Diaval. You have more than earned it, but first..." Her magic spiralled out towards him, wrapping him in a tight cocoon. Pleasure flooded through him as he felt the cords of power tighten against his skin, he was shrinking, growing smaller and smaller, his arms were fusing to his sides, his legs to one another, his spine was collapsing... He lay on the ground, wriggling on his stomach. From where he was now, Maleficent was practically the same size as her tree, and her voice when she spoke was loud as thunder. "You once said you would not care if I turned you into a meal worm. How do you like it?"

The world spun as she picked him up by the tail and held him high above her head. He tried to speak but could make no sound. All he could do was stare at the sensuous curve of her lips as she asked again, "I said, how do you like it?" For a terrifying instant, he thought she was about to swallow him whole, but instead her tongue snaked out and licked along the length of his body. The caress sent his brain spinning and his whole frame trembling. But he then went completely still as she extended her tongue and placed him on it. Very slowly, she began to roll him around her mouth. The pressure of her tongue and softness of her flesh were exquisite, complemented by the knowledge that one wrong move would see him plunged into the acid of her stomach or dashed to pieces between her teeth. The combination kept him rigid with terrified arousal. She wouldn't let that happen, she had said he would be a man again, or at least... had hinted he would be... Suddenly it was over, he was lying in the palm of her hand, convulsing with relief and desire.

"The answer seems to be more than you had anticipated, but perhaps it would be better if you were in a more... communicative shape..." She placed him carefully back on the ground and magic flooded into him, it wasn't quite turning into a dragon but the size difference between a man and a meal worm was more than enough for the change to leave him panting with pleasure as her spell brought him to his feet. He was sticky with saliva, dishevelled and desperate, his cock aching for release. He saw Maleficent smiling at him.

"Almost as filthy as the day we met," she said.

"Just as beautiful."

She laughed and then, wings fluttering, began to hover in front of him. Slowly, she circled one leg, then the other, around his waist, drawing herself onto him, her body held up with wingbeats too fast for the eye to see. Diaval sighed with bliss as she wrapped herself round him. Leaning forward, Maleficent ran her tongue slowly around his lips before plunging it into his mouth. His face covered in her scent, his whole body bathed in her saliva, he had already felt utterley owned by her, but the kiss was another claiming. She pulled his head back by the hair, and sucked on his tongue as if she would tear it out. Sliding up and down his shaft, her deep-throated screams were forcing their way down his airway, making him light-headed as he had to breath in as she breathed out. Eventually they surfaced, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He held her so she didn't have to maintain the hover.

"I love you." he whispered.

She smiled. "I know. But do you trust me?"

He was about to protest, but realised she was smiling, teasing. "Hold on tight."

A rush of sound and her wings snapped open to their full span. With great laborious sweeps, they began to rise. Diaval began to feel gloriously dizzy as the air began to thin and the blood left his head.

"Is this wise?"

"Hush. All you have to do is relax."

They were climbing faster now. With every beat of her beautiful wings, she clenched around him. As she took them higher and higher, it drove him nearer and nearer to the edge. He clasped his arms tightly around her, kissing the skin between her breasts, along her collarbones, barely aware of what he was doing, as the quivering, tightening embrace of her cunt became the only sensation that mattered. They broke through some wispy clouds into bright moonlight. Maleficent laughed in triumph. Then, without warning, she flipped over into a vertical dive. The wind tore away Diaval's scream of release as they plummeted towards the earth.

Lying on his back by the lake, sated, he watched as the sun rose and Maleficent destroyed her dark throne. Already, she was encouraging new shoots to grow, he had never seen her so happy. So free. Eventually she lay down beside him, their skin just touching. He ran his fingers gently through her feathers.

"Was this how you always were before..?"

"Yes."

"Do you think you will be again?"

"I hope so."

Diaval knew it would be a while before they would see Aurora, she had a blood-father to bury, maybe even grieve for, the little of him she had known. And then a kingdom to run. Her subjects hadn't had a Queen before, but there was a first time for everything and the people would adapt. Change was coming to the moorlands too. Maleficent was making it beautiful again, the barricade of thorns was gone. Diaval took that as a good sign. And so it proved. On the morning their daughter returned to them, to unite her kingdom with her mother's, Maleficent dressed him in black velvet and told him she loved him. And he knew then for certain that even the greatest of the fairies would always need a spare set of wings.


End file.
